Page 5 of Isle of Beasts and Shadows

Duran took a moment before he laughed, realizing her situation. “You’re quite the sheltered girl, aren’t you? That’s all about to change.” He spoke one last time. “Now, find yourself a weapon and a set of armor. You have an hour before our departure, so make it quick.”

Tears began to stream down Airella’s face out of frustration, confusion, and sadness after she closed the door behind her. Why was she feeling this way? Arii and her mother would be well off with the money they would receive. She only hoped that someone would send a messenger to notify them of her journey. The last thing she wanted was for them to be worried.

She walked to a wall lined with weapons and different types of armor and wiped the tears off of her face. Although there were a variety of options to pick from, she could only find one set of armor that was small enough to fit her. She had difficulty finding the armor because it lacked specific design for a woman and it still exceeded the appropriate size. She removed her wet clothes and slid on the white tunic and leather pants that had been laid out for her. She then slid on the silver chestplate. It was old and rusted, hardly passing the standards to go into battle with. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case. From her knowledge, only the higher-ups, such as the first-in-command, wore gold. The rest of the king’s army wore silver.

Now it was time to choose a weapon. She looked over her options, confused at the thought of why King William would think she had ever held a weapon before. She turned her head towards her pile of wet clothes lying on the floor of the armory and saw that a brown satchel was laying next to where her prepared clothes had been. A metal blade peeked from the satchel, and she moved to open the bag to reveal what was inside. Dawnbreaker glistened as if it were speaking to her. It reminded her of a smaller version of an executioner’s axe—it was gold and had two blades on each side of the top of the handle. It was mesmerizing to look at, yet dangerous to the touch. She had always wondered why her father kept an armory full of fine and polished weapons in his bedroom, but now that she knew he had some type of strong connection to the king, she could understand why. After finishing, she used an old leather belt to strap Dawnbreaker to her waist, then walked to a mirror.

Airella looked at her reflection, examining her looks. She could hardly recognize herself in all the armor. She never thought that she would ever find herself in this position. “I’ll be back soon, Eldaraya...” she mumbled, her bright blue eye distracting her as it overpowered her emerald green one. Her hair was completely dry now and fell into loose curls around her waist. She pulled it up into a high ponytail using a strand of old ribbon and then heard a knock on the door.

“We are departing in ten minutes. Board the ship now!” A soldier yelled from the hall. Airella, intrigued by the murmurs swirling among the soldiers, quietly trailed behind him as theymade their way to the ship. It didn’t take long for the whispers to reach her ears, carrying the news of an unprecedented journey about to unfold—one where a woman, her presence stirring curiosity and speculation, would join their ranks on this voyage.

As Airella’s gaze swept over the intricately carved wooden ship, she couldn’t help but notice the striking contrast in attire—silver garments adorned the majority except for a select few who sported distinct insignias denoting their elevated positions. Although their numbers were scarce, Airella’s initial hunch was now solidified, confirming her suspicions.

A red-haired man in his mid-twenties approached Airella. His facial features were framed by a light stubble, accentuating his jawline and exuding warmth and kindness. His lips curved into a gentle smile, which added a friendly charm to his demeanor.

Clad in a set of intricately designed golden armor, a shade brighter than Duran’s, he stood tall with a sense of noble pride. He gingerly cradled a weathered wooden box in his arms and Airella barely spared it a glance. Her focus was entirely on the man before her.

“Could it be? Are you truly the child of the renowned Lysander Devereaux?”

“Just call me Airella,” a hint of curiosity filled her voice as she extended her hand to shake his. Her gaze shifted slightly, and she quickly noticed a large scar that rested on the side of his forehead, a silent reminder of a past unknown to her.

“I am the second-in-command,” he announced confidently, a glint of determination in his eyes as he introduced himself, “and co-captain of this grand journey that lies ahead.You may call me Jonathan.” His voice carried a sense of leadership and camaraderie, resonating with assurance.

As he spoke cheerily, his gaze shifted downwards, meeting her curious eyes with a friendly warmth. Airella sensed an opportunity in his demeanor, a chance to inquire about a topic of intrigue.

“You have obviously heard of my father,” he continued, a hint of curiosity lacing his words, “would you mind sharing what you know?” Airella, captivated by the opening he presented, seized the moment to engage in conversation.

“Why, you don’t know? Well, I guess it made sense to spare you the details. I mean, you must have only been a young child when he died, so it only made sense—” Jonathan paused mid-sentence, catching his insensitivity in the making. Realizing his misstep, he quickly apologized. “Sorry.” He hesitated for a moment, waiting for Airella’s nod before cautiously continuing, “Your father gained the nickname The Executioner. He led the Great War on Aurian, but that must have been years before you were born.”

Airella’s expression turned distant, her thoughts swirling with confusion. Her mother had never hinted at such a past, leaving Airella grappling with the sudden revelation. Her mind raced as she struggled to reconcile this new information with her memories. The realization did, however, shed light on the hidden cache of weapons concealed within her father’s chambers.

Her voice trembled slightly as she questioned Jonathan, “Are you certain we are referring to the same Lysander Devereaux? It seems improbable. King William must have confused me with another.” Airella shook her head, a mixof uncertainty and apprehension clouding her features as she instinctively distanced herself from Jonathan’s words.

“The proof is all here. According to what we’ve heard, your strength is just like his once was... even your eyes resemble his. The resemblance between the two of you is uncanny.” Slowly and thoughtfully, he moved closer, his steps deliberate as he reached out, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I would know, believe me,” he revealed softly, his eyes reflecting a mix of nostalgia and wisdom. “I was his apprentice.”

“If that’s true, then why aren’t you the first-in-command instead of Duran?” Airella gestured towards Duran from across the upper deck.

“Well, he was second-in-command at the time of Lysander’s retirement from the king’s army,” Jonathan explained, his brow furrowing slightly as he delved into the history of their ranks. “He positioned himself to become first-in-command after your father, following a succession plan that has remained unaltered ever since. This continuity has offered me valuable experience, which has allowed me to effectively serve as second-in-command.”

“Oh, I see,” Airella nodded her head in understanding, her expression reflecting a mix of comprehension and curiosity.

“I was instructed to give this to you,” Jonathan explained with a reverent tone in his voice. “King William commissioned his very own blacksmith to forge it while we awaited your arrival.” With deliberate care, he held out the moderately sized box, its craftsmanship clear in the intricate details adorning its exterior, and gently placed it in Airella’s awaiting arms.

“I have to make sure everything is in order now,” Jonathan continued, a sense of duty in his words. “I’ll be seeing you.”

With a warm smile that reached his eyes, he bid farewell to Airella before turning gracefully and striding purposefully into the bustling crowd of men, each one focused on their task of loading the wooden ship in meticulous preparation for the upcoming journey.

Airella gazed down at the wooden crate cradled in her hands, feeling the rough texture beneath her fingertips. Grateful for her robust strength, she effortlessly carried the weighty burden towards her assigned cabin aboard the creaking ship. Curiosity danced in her eyes as she gingerly placed the crate on her modest cot, the anticipation building within her. With a gentle pull, she pried open the lid, revealing a dazzling spectacle that took her breath away—a set of intricately crafted golden armor tailored to perfection for a woman of her stature.

In that fleeting moment, as the soft glow of the golden armor bathed her room in a warm light, Airella made a silent vow to inhabit her confined space until necessity dictated otherwise. While the gesture of the gift was undeniably thoughtful, it failed to dispel the lingering unease that clung to her in the vast expanse of the open sea, far from the familiar comforts of Alverstone.

Chapter 3

Jonathan gazed across the vast waters of the ocean’s horizon, the soft hues of the setting sun painting the sky in breathtaking shades of orange and pink. The ship, a magnificent vessel with billowing sails that caught the evening breeze, had just set sail, its wooden hull creaking softly as it glided through the gentle waves. His unexpected encounter with the one and only daughter of Lysander Devereaux, a moment filled with a mix of curiosity and intrigue, had caused a flood of memories to rush through his mind.

Standing near the hull of the grand warship, Jonathan could feel the pulse of the ship beneath his feet, a rhythmic beat that matched the flutter of his own heart. The seagulls, elegant creatures with wings outstretched, sang their melodic goodbyes as they soared gracefully into the distance, bidding farewell to the coast of Eldaraya, their cries echoing in the salty air.

Amidst the bustling activity on deck, men moved with purpose and determination. Each soldier, clad in weathered uniforms that bore the marks of countless voyages, carried out their designated tasks with precision. Some diligently scrubbed the upper deck, their movements methodical and efficient, while others manned the helm, guiding the ship towards its mysterious destination—the island that had captured the imagination of many.

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